


not dead

by poppyharris



Category: Columbine - Fandom
Genre: short and sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:20:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22246990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poppyharris/pseuds/poppyharris
Summary: dylan struggles to come to terms with his death.
Kudos: 11





	not dead

**Author's Note:**

> so yeah sorry i haven’t been around  
> i got into a relationship with a boy but he uh well he cheated on me so um yeah i haven’t been in a good place mentally  
> ive had loads of things in my drafts but i rarely have the confidence to post things lately  
> but! i’m getting back in the saddle, and im gonna start writing stuff from other fandoms too :)

the vast, blue space spread before him. 

dylan wasn’t even aware he’d opened his eyes.

a dull ache spread through his head.

he lifted his hand to his head. when his fingers touched the point where his beloved tec had been just moments before, he felt something warm slide over his fingers.

withdrawing them, dylan saw they were covered in blood. with a sprinkling of bone.

he clumsily tapped around the rest of his face, finding it more or less intact. only that one, small hole was out of place.

dylan couldn’t help it. he had to sit down. 

no sooner did he think it, that a chair appeared in front of him.

what had happened? he remembered going into the library with eric, but-

fuck! where the fuck was eric?

”reb?! reb!”

nothing. the coloradan accent bounced off the invisible walls like gunshots off a cafeteria floor.

”eric!” he yelled.

dylan sighed, the void seemed to shift to a soft red. why the fuck was he here? he wasn’t dead, was he? maybe this was purgatory? maybe this was jewish hell?

he snorted at the thought of jewish hell. the void shifted again, to a light yellow. maybe that’s why eric wasn’t here, the nazi.

”i’m not dead.” he whispered, like the way eric used to whisper to him.

”i’m not dead!” he yelled.

”i am NOT dead!”

”yes you are.”

dylan stood up quickly, his hand flying to his hip, then swearing when he realised his guns were gone.

”who the fuck is there?” dylan demanded, turning around in a 360.

”i’m here.”

the voice, was strange. it was recognisable, but strange. accented, but not. neither masculine nor feminine.

”i’m not dead,” dylan stomped his foot, his tone turning petulant.

”you are dead.”

”no i’m not!”

”you really are, dylan.”

dylan scrunched up his nose, crossing his arms. 

well, this was going to be a fun eternity.


End file.
